


Two Beetles

by Brynn_Jones, eureka1



Series: Omegaism [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Discrimination, Fighting for Equal Rights, M/M, Omega Dean, Omegaism, Past Mpreg, Politics, mentions of Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, omega rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynn_Jones/pseuds/Brynn_Jones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/eureka1/pseuds/eureka1
Summary: Dean comes home from work to a precious scene. Time stamp set two years after the original story.





	Two Beetles

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: die kleinen Käfer = the little beetles; Käfer is also the German nickname for a Volkswagen Beetle  
> Hoppe hoppe Reiter is a light-hearted children’s song, in which a white horse bucks off its rider.

Dean gave himself a self-congratulatory pat on the back as he entered the home he shared with Castiel. He’d just succeeded in locating a classic 1971 Volkswagen Beetle Cabriolet via the online classifieds, and it was a steal. The fire-engine red _käfer_ was in poor condition and would require a great deal of careful restoration work before it would run again, but this was exactly what he wanted to give Sammy for his eighteenth birthday.

He’d decided to return home and tell John about the car. He hoped his dad would want to work together to overhaul the automobile and restore it to a pristine, like-new condition - just like they’d done with other vehicles when Dean was much younger, before alcohol had turned John into a belligerent, do-nothing wreck of a man.

Before starting his search, Dean had approached Bobby about using his garage to refurbish the car. The older mechanic had agreed, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. “John has come a long way from the first time I met him,” the man acknowledged. “He’s not staggering around in a drunken stupor, yelling at everyone and everything.”

Figuring that was as warm an endorsement of his father as he could expect from Bobby - John ranked well below Castiel in the cantankerous beta’s estimation - Dean had immediately begun searching for a VW bug from the 1960s or early 1970s.

Now, as he shut the door to the house behind himself, he was about to call out for his dad, when he suddenly espied a giggling, chubby-legged toddler waddling into the living room, moving along at a pretty good clip. Next, he spotted John duckwalking behind the child, who was attired in only a diaper and a bright blue tee. His dad pretended to grab for the little one, letting out a cry of mock outrage when he intentionally missed. The tyke squealed in glee, tottering along a little faster.

Where, the young omega wondered, was- His question was answered before it was fully formed, another similarly clad child, this one in a sunny yellow tee peeking at him from behind the sofa. “Dadada,” Aaron shrieked, leaving his hiding place and unsteadily weaving his way toward Dean.

Once the toddler reached him, the omega scooped up his son and kissed him on his rosy cheeks, the boy squirming in delight and chanting, “Dadada.”

After swooping down on Noah, the other mischievous cherub, and picking him up, John appeared in the entryway to the living room. “Holy sh- cow,” he groaned, the fond look on his face belying his words, “it’s impossible to keep up with _die kleinen Käfer_ , son.”

Dean grinned at his father, remembering hearing John call him and Sammy by that nickname, back when Sam was practically a newborn. It stemmed from the couple of stints John had done in the army, when he was stationed in Germany for a few years, the omega suspected. “A couple of beetles getting the better of you dad?” he teased, leaning over to bestow a kiss on Noah, the imp in the blue t-shirt.

“They do make sure I get plenty of exercise. I swear I haven’t been this fit since my army days,” he declared with a chuckle, confirming his son’s surmise.

The younger man was hardly able to believe the changes a couple of years had wrought in John. Since drying out at the detoxification facility, he’d been a different person, one the omega was still getting to know.

“I, um, I know I didn’t do right by you and Sammy.” John stumbled over the words a bit, red flags of embarrassment in his cheeks. “That makes me all the luckier that you and Castiel took a chance on me - letting me help you look after my grandsons. Not that I ever expected to be a grandad so young, mind you.”

“Says the man who was pushing me to mate,” the omega joked. “Just what did you think the result of _that_ would be?”

“Erm, well,” his dad shuffled his feet, bouncing Noah in his arms a little and eliciting a giggle from the tyke. “Partly I was being selfish, wanting to keep myself supplied with bottles to neck,” he declared in the forthright, honest way he’d acquired in therapy - “and partly I genuinely wanted you to be happy, Dean. I didn’t realize until you showed me that an omega could actually function on their own. And, uh,” he coughed, “as for the ‘result’ of you taking a mate, I never thought about that at all. I sure as fu- uh, heck, wasn’t thinking about becoming a grandfather.”

“You’re a good one, you know,” the omega replied, gently prying his thumb out of Aaron’s mouth when his son started to suck on it. “I wouldn’t be able to work part-time at the garage with Bobby if it wasn’t for you. And as much as I love my sons, I’d be going stir crazy if I had to take care of them 24/7.”

“I guess it worked out for the best then, the way those damned journalists hounded me when I tried to re-enter the workforce,” John reflected. “Maybe if I’d been able to handle a desk job, it would’ve been different.”

“There might’ve been more people to provide a buffer between you and the reporters,” Dean shrugged, “but then again, they might’ve just contributed to the gossip. Regardless, it’s not your fault that the newsies followed you everywhere after you started working for that landscaping business.” The omega winced, recalling one awful tabloid headline, which had blared, ‘Alpha father condones omega son working while pregnant.’

“Gumpy,” Aaron carrolled, bringing Dean back to the present before he started brooding about the ongoing injustice toward omegas. The little boy wiggled in the omega’s grasp as he stretched pudgy arms toward his grandfather.

“Trade you,” John suggested, as Noah imitated his brother’s actions, reaching out and burbling, “Dadada.”

After they’d adroitly exchanged the twins, each man ending up with a toddler settled on his hip, Dean titled his head in the direction of the kitchen. “I have something to show you. Want to chat over a cuppa?”

“Sounds good,” John replied. “I could do with a jolt of caffeine.”

Once John had settled into a chair at the kitchen table, Dean handed Noah back to his dad, the older man looking rather comical with a toddler perched on each thigh. The omega grinned at his sons, who appeared to be playing their own version of pat-a-cake, their hands patting their Gumpy’s cheeks more often than they clapped each other’s palms.

A few minutes later, Dean carried mugs of the steeped tea over to the table, along with a package of the Leibniz butter cookies that his dad favored. Always mindful that his boys could choke on the hard biscuits,

he also set down two plastic cups containing bits of the cookies softened in milk. “Want me to put them in their highchairs?” he asked.

“Nah, they’re good,” his dad replied. While helping the boys scramble around so that they were astride his thighs, facing the table, he playfully quipped, “Are you trying to butter me up?” pointing at the sweets with his chin.

“Sure, if it’s that easy,” the omega teased in return. “You’ll work it off it no time whatsoever, chasing after my scamps.”

Both men smiled as they watched clumsy, plump hands grasp the cups and bring them to chubby faces. Aaron almost immediately looked up in round-eyed dismay when Noah’s arm jiggled his cup, causing the milk and cookie mixture to miss his mouth and plop onto his granda’s jeans.

“Oops,” John said easily, “runaway milk. No worries, little beetle, I’ve had many a worse stain on my clothes. “Why don’t you try again?” he advised. He guided the cup toward Aaron’s mouth while keeping a careful eye on Noah, who glanced up at his grandfather through his eyelashes as he went to jostle his brother again. The disapproving lift of an eyebrow stopped him dead, however.

Dean burst out laughing at how neatly his dad had caught Noah in an act of mischief and thwarted him from repeating it. The imp shot a toothy smile at father and grandfather, before he quieted, slurping contentedly at his drink. The omega doubted his son would sit still for long - he was always bursting at the seams with energy.

Taking advantage of the momentary lull in activity, Dean fished around in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a Mattel Hot Wheels VW cabriolet, that was a near replica of the car he wanted to refurbish for Sammy. He plunked it down on the table, which caused his dad to arch an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

The older man lifted up the miniature cabriolet and examined it more closely. “1971? 1974?” he queried. “Has to be one or the other, based on the way the front wheel rims are thick at the back.”

“1971,” Dean confirmed, impressed as always with his dad’s knowledge of automobiles. No matter how skilled a mechanic he became, he doubted he’d ever make that kind of identification as quickly as John.

John gave the Hot Wheels car a push, sending it racing across the table toward Dean, who stopped it with a finger against the hood. “How would you feel about restoring one of these?” the omega asked.

“You hiding one out in the garage?” his dad replied, lips twitching.

“Hmm, not exactly,” Dean admitted. Grabbing his cell phone, he opened the online advertisement, and passed the phone to his dad. “But I’m planning to buy this one and have it towed to Bobby’s shop. I think it would make the perfect gift for Sammy’s birthday.”

John blinked at him in surprise. “Have you clued Bobby into this plan of yours? I’m pretty much persona non grata at his garage.”

“Bobby wasn’t thrilled,” the omega disclosed, “but he didn’t protest all that much either. It’d do him good to see that you’ve changed, and to realize there are other decent alphas besides Castiel.”

“Huh.” John shrugged. “Guess I can’t let you down then, not if you think I’m a decent alpha, son.” After a brief pause, he requested, “Let me purchase the car with you? I’d like it to be a gift from me as well.”

“Sure.” Pleased with the success of his overture, Dean tossed the little car up in the air, catching it in his hand as it fell back down. “We have close to five months to whip the VW into shape.”

“Plenty of time,” John grunted. “We can introduce my grandsons to the fine art of automobile restoration.”

“Bobby won’t know what’s hit him.” Dean chuckled.

“I guess we’ll be a three-käfer family,” John remarked, grinning down at his grandsons. He began jouncing them on his knees, singing in a raspy baritone, “Hoppe hoppe Reiter, Schimmel geht nicht weiter…”

Dean smiled as a memory of John singing the same children’s rhyme to him and Sammy assailed him. He wanted his sons to only ever know this loving side of their granda.

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you wonderful readers have any ideas you’d like to see in a future time stamp, please share - we’re willing to entertain it.


End file.
